


Shut Up / Make Me

by HamletsProzac



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (also pretty quickly resolved), (quickly resolved), A little angst, Drabble, Established Relationship, Kinda, a little smut, teenage boys swearing, these tags are useless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamletsProzac/pseuds/HamletsProzac
Summary: Oikawa does not always call him Iwa-chan.He doesn’t call him that when they’re at Iwaizumi’s house having dinner with his parents. He’s usually Hajime when they’re on the phone. And he’s definitely not Iwa-chan when Oikawa is angry.At the moment, Oikawa is livid.





	Shut Up / Make Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at IwaOi and it's an angsty mess. 
> 
> This was written for kendershire on tumblr, for the prompt:  
> "The shut up / make me trope with any Haikyuu pairing." 
> 
> CW: lots of swearing, c-word used as an insult

Oikawa does not always call him Iwa-chan.

He doesn’t call him that when they’re at Iwaizumi’s house having dinner with his parents. He’s usually Hajime when they’re on the phone. And he’s definitely not Iwa-chan when Oikawa is angry.

At the moment, Oikawa is livid.

“Fuck off, Iwaizumi. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Of course I do. I know you better than anyone, Shittykawa. What you just said to Kageyama was uncalled for and you fucking _know it_.”

“He was asking for it. Did you see him fucking smirking? And he doesn’t give a shit about my opinion, it’s not like –“

“ _That’s not the point,”_ Iwaizumi growls, banging his fist against the lockers. Oikawa huffs through his nose and adjusts the bridge of his glasses haughtily. “Don’t fucking avoid this, Oikawa. Why the fuck did you do that?”

Oikawa rubs his forehead dejectedly and swings his leg over the low bench to sit. “Shut up, Iwaizumi. Leave me alone.”

Iwaizumi kicks the bench, hard. Oikawa starts and glares up at him. “No, you piece of shit. We’re talking about this, god _damn_ it. Why the fuck did you embarrass him like that?”

“Because he pissed me off.”

“ _Tooru.”_

“He did!”

“Quit fucking avoiding this! That’s not why and you know it.” Oikawa juts his chin out, folds his arms across his chest. He swings his other leg over the bench and crosses his ankle over his knee. He looks up at Iwaizumi like he wants to crush him under his heel but can’t be bothered to get up.

“Well since you seem to know so much about it, _Hajime_ ,” Oikawa bites, “why don’t you tell me? Go ahead, tell me why I said it, since you seem to know. Yell at me, I’m sure it’ll make you feel better. It always does when I don’t act the way you want me to.”

Iwaizumi bangs his fist against the locker again. Oikawa’s mouth snaps shut. Iwaizumi’s hand aches.

They stare each other down. Oikawa looks calm, but Iwaizumi can see the way his hands are shaking. Iwaizumi’s breath is coming fast and hard, and he can tell Oikawa is watching it. They glare at one another until all Iwaizumi can hear is the pounding of blood in his ears and the way his hand tingles in afterthought with every pulse.

“You did it because you’re scared,” Iwaizumi says lowly.

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Try again, dipshit.”

“No. That’s why. We’re graduating in a month and you’re scared about the future. You’re not as complex as you think you are.”

Oikawa locks his jaw and narrows his eyes. He looks like a pathetic, pissed off cat. “What the fuck do I have to be scared about?”

“Losing me.”

It’s like Iwaizumi sucked the air out of the room with those two words. Oikawa doesn’t seem to be able to talk, or breathe, or move. He gapes up at him, but Iwaizumi holds his ground. Oikawa swallows and grits his teeth. Then he drops his eyes and wraps his arms tighter around his chest. His chest hitches, and Iwaizumi watches a tear hit the inside of the lens of his glasses.

“Tooru…” Iwaizumi starts. He takes a tentative step forward, reaching out to touch Oikawa’s shoulder. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

As soon as his fingertips brush the hem of Oikawa’s sleeve, he jerks away. He scrambles off the bench, banging his knee against the side of it. Oikawa doesn’t even seem to feel it.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Oikawa snarls. Now Oikawa is breathing hard, blinking hard to get rid of the tears.

“Don’t get mad because I’m right.”

 _“You’re not,”_ he hisses. He bites the inside of his lip, and even from a distance Iwaizumi can tell it’s _hard_.

“You wouldn’t be this mad if I wasn’t!”

Oikawa scoffs, putting his hands on his hips. “As if I’d be that scared of losing _you,_ Iwa-chan. I’m counting down the minutes til I don’t have to listen to your bitching anymore.”

Iwaizumi barely stops himself from punching the locker again. “Don’t be a fucking cunt, Shittykawa.”

“I’ll be whatever the fuck I want to be. You don’t own me, even though you seem to think so.”

“I don’t think that!”

“Then stop trying to _lecture_ me! So I was a dick to Kageyama. So what!” Oikawa throws his arms in the air. “Like you said, we’re graduating, it doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters.”

“That’s now how you feel,” Iwaizumi spits before Oikawa can override him again.

“Why do you think you can read my mind?”

“Because I can! Because I have known you all my life and you’ve never been like this. You’ve always been a spiteful, petty little bitch, but you’re never been fucking _mean_ , Tooru. But lately you’ve been fucking impossible, and it’s because you’re scared about the future, just like the rest of us. You want everyone to hate you because you think it’ll make it easier to leave them. Well it fucking _won’t_. News flash, asshole, I’m not fucking going anywhere. Stop thinking I’m gonna bail on you as soon as we’re not going to the same school anymore. I don’t know where you got this sick idea, but put it back where it fucking came from. I’m fucking sick of it.”

Oikawa’s chest is heaving, and he’s staring Iwaizumi down like a feral dog. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Oikawa rushes him, leaping over the bench. Before Iwaizumi can brace himself he’s being shoved against the lockers, Oikawa’s fist bunched in the collar of his shirt, and lips against his own.

Oikawa kisses him roughly, working his mouth so that he can shove his tongue inside. Iwaizumi grunts and lets him, giving back as good as he’s given. His throbbing hand tangles in Oikawa’s hair, mussing the perfection. Oikawa’s other hand, the one not about the tear through the collar of his shirt, is gripping tightly at his hip. Iwazumi can just barely feel the bite of his nails through the fabric of his gym shorts.

Oikawa presses on, thrusting his hips down into Iwaizumi’s. He isn’t hard yet, but he’s getting there. Iwaizumi is too. Iwaizumi slides his hands up the back of Oikawa’s shirt, then dragging his nails down roughly. Oikawa yelps and bucks his hips again, rutting against him faster. Iwaizumi’s head drops back with a gasp – it feels _good_. It’s so fucking typical, really, that they’ve gone from screaming at each other to _this_. It’s so _them_.

Oikawa drags his teeth down Iwaizumi’s neck and forces his hand down the back of his shorts to grab at his ass and keep him in place.

“Hajime – is – are you –“

“I’m fine,” Iwaizumi pants. “Keep going.” He bucks his hips, thrusting his now hard cock against where he can feel Tooru’s length grinding into him.

“ _Hajime,”_ Oikawa breathes, right into his ear and far too gently for the way Iwaizumi is still pulling at his hair.

“I know,” Iwaizumi answers, wrapping his other arm around Oikawa’s waist, holding him possessively. One of Oikawa’s hands drops down to fight their shorts down and their shirts up, so they can feel each other skin to skin, the way they like best. _“Tooru.”_

It’s almost scary, how fast they reach their climax. How synched they are, even like this, messy and desperate and tearing at each other like animals. Before Iwaizumi can even contemplate how close he is, he feels the unmistakable _clench_ through his stomach. He thrusts back harder, grunting every time his cock meets Oikawa’s and panting so hard he can see a wet mark on Oikawa’s shirt. Oikawa is just as close, keening and biting at his neck, thrusts losing control until he cries out and Iwaizumi feels the warm spill on his skin. It’s the last push he needs – he shudders and cums, feels it drip down his still-twitching cock.

For the first time that afternoon, it’s quiet in the locker room. Iwaizumi can hear their breathing, and the gentle rasp of their sneakers over the concrete as they shift, but it’s still. Peaceful once more. The way it should be.

Oikawa has his forehead pressed into Iwaizumi’s neck. His arms are slung around Iwaizumi’s waist, and he’s clinging to him. Iwaizumi can’t help but stroke his fingers through his hair, soothe over where he had pulled. He feels hot tears against his skin.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. Don’t fucking do it again.” Oikawa laughs wetly. “I’m not going anywhere. I mean it.”

Oikawa swallows, hard, and sniffs. “I know. Now.”

“Good.” A long breath in, and then out, together. “Next time you’re being such a cunt I will punch you in the face, though.”

Oikawa laughs again, low and tired. “So mean, Iwa-chan.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this stream of consciousness style in one evening about a month ago and I'm just now getting around to posting it. I wasn't sure about putting it up here, but honestly I'm pretty proud of it. Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Follow me at hamletsprozac on tumblr ;)


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